


For His Sake...

by abigail89



Category: Confession (2005), Priest (2011)
Genre: Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Guilty Pleasures, M/M, Oral Sex, Religious Themes & References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-14
Updated: 2011-10-14
Packaged: 2017-10-24 14:44:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/264674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abigail89/pseuds/abigail89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before he goes off on a mission to eradicate the Earth of the vampire scourge, a Priest engages in an elicit affair with a very insistent altar boy.  It's the one thought that helps him survive his transformation into a human/vampire hybrid called Black Hat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For His Sake...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [weepingnaiad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weepingnaiad/gifts).



> This started as a comment fic on LJ comm 'jim_and_bones' based on the image of [Karl Urban as a Priest before he became Black Hat](http://pics.livejournal.com/abigail89/pic/000cfxqq) and [Chris Pine as an altar boy](http://pics.livejournal.com/abigail89/pic/000cgk5s). My partner-in-crime WeepingNaid encouraged me to take it further. This is for her.

The boy fingers the fine altar linens on the credenza nervously. The anticipation is killing him, waiting for him to arrive. He's wanted this for so long, too long. And now, his chance has arrived--

'Why are you still here?'

He turns to regard the priest standing in the open doorway, holding the stole in his large hand. 'I-I am here to assist you, Father.' He bows slightly.

'Don't bow before me, boy!' the priest barks. He swiftly moves into the room, the heavy door banging closed loudly behind him. 'Only God deserves your worship.'

'Bu-but the Archbishop says--'

'Do I look like the Archbishop, boy?' Priest snaps.

'No, F-father,' the boy stammers.

'Thank Christ for that, the old windbag,' Priest mutters.

The boy can't help the high-pitched giggle.

'Find that funny, boy?'

The boy looks up into Priest's clear hazel eyes. His handsome face is marred—yes, _marred_ \--by the smudge of a darkly inked cross across the shapely nose and the perfect forehead; his dark hair is closely cropped, too short for him to run his fingers....

He shakes himself out of that brief reverie. 'Um...no, Father.'

'You must always pay the Archbishop his...bishopric due,' Priest says.

'Yes, Father.' He takes a deep breath. 'May I serve you?'

Priest closes his eyes, bows his head. 'I don't need to be served,' he growls.

The boy takes this as his opening. 'But you do,' he says, his voice finding confidence in the teachings of the Church. 'All priests who serve Holy Communion do not need to be bothered with the mundane activity of de-vestment. It is the job of the altar boy to assist.' He steps closer. The man-- _no, Priest_ \--is tall, broad-shouldered. His skin is marked by small scars from his encounters on his holy duty, that of killing vampires, but it only makes him more....dangerous. Alluring. _Attractive._ 'Please, Father, you do your duty to the church. Allow me to do mine.'

Priest exhales, relaxes. 'All right.'

The boy slowly takes the stole, holds it up to Priest's lips for his kiss of blessing. Then, he removes the cincture from Priest's trim waist, unbuttons the sacramental, robes and pulls the under-robe off, hanging each one reverently in the locker before him. He takes the black robe of the Warriors from the hanger, turns to hand it to Priest.

He falters as his eyes slide down, drinking in the sight of Priest's...glorious body—toned, golden brown, flecked with dark moles here and there, hard abdominals and defined pecs and--

The black robe falls from the boy's nerveless fingers as he steps back. This—this is what he's wanted, since that first day so long ago when he had seen this Warrior Priest from afar. Then, all the times he had served Mass with him. He's wanted to know this intoxicating _man_ , wanted to know what he looks like, what he smells like, what he _tastes_ like. This Priest has been in his dreams for ages now, and today his desire has come to fruition. He kneels before the nearly naked Priest, and licks his lips. He lifts his hands to pull on the waistband of the practical, black boxer-briefs.

'What are you...doing, boy?' Priest whispers.

The boy inhales deeply, intoxicated by the maleness of Priest. 'Serving you,' he says.

'No.'

'Yes. I'm of age. I want to. Want this.' He slides the undergarment down Priest's muscular thighs. A half-hard cock bobs free. 'Allow me to serve you,' the boy says. He nuzzles the hot flesh, growing longer every second. 'I want to do this for you.'

He breathes over the darkened head, causing the man to shudder. He kisses it, and Priest groans, cards his fingers through the boy's head, just as he's always dreamed Priest would. He takes as much of the length in his mouth, slowly savoring the man's essence, drinking it like sacramental wine.

'You shouldn't,' Priest whispers. 'We shouldn't.' But he makes no effort to push him away.

The boy sucks harder with each slide over flesh, tonguing the sensitive slit on each pass, sliding deeper and deeper until his nose is buried in the dark wiry hair. Priest's fingers grip his head tighter as the boy feels him fight the canting of his hips, fighting the need to _thrust_. He finds the balls and squeezes each one, growing more bold, more insistent.

'Boy, I'm going—'

The boy hums and squeezes both balls hard. Priest emits a long, ethereal moan, and suddenly, the boy's mouth is flooded with the salty-bitter taste of ejaculate. Priest shudders and thrusts hard into his mouth, once, twice, thrice; the boy relaxes some and allows it, welcomes the freedom he has given this man.

He closes his eyes, savoring the taste and smell of sex. He is tugged up without warning by strong hands on his arms and pulled into a heaving chest. Lips crush to his; Priest's tongue sweeps through his mouth, licking away all trace of himself. A moan rumbles through the boy's vestments, and inflames him, even though he himself came in his pants just seconds ago.

The boy pushes away, and gives Priest a smirk. 'I will be here to serve with you tomorrow.'

'No,' Priest says, pulling up his underwear and picking his robe off the floor. 'You can't.'

'I can, and I will,' the boy says. And he walks away, smiling.

*~*

'Say it,' the boy snarls, 'say it to me.'

Priest thrashes beneath him. 'What do you want from me?' he says, voice strained with lust and guilt.

'That isn't what I want to hear.' The boy presses into the larger man, thrusts his cock in and out violently. 'Say it!'

He closes his eyes. Never in a million years did he ever think he'd be in this position—ever. He is a _priest_ for the love of Christ! Handpicked by the Church for his “special abilities” at the age of eleven. Studied at the finest schools and the Seminary in Rome. Bound to God by sacred vows, ordained by the Archbishop himself. A member of the Church's elite team of vampire-slayers who cleanse the world of their evil. Adroit with any weapon given unto him for the divine purpose of ridding the world of menace. He has faced the enemy too many times to count, and won them all.

But _this_....this he is wholly unprepared for. This _boy_ has stripped him bare, flayed him open with his passion, has reordered that which had heretofore been orderly and right and known. He hates feeling so out of control, out of his depth of experience and knowledge, hates knowing he has broken one of the vows of his vocation. But this _boy_ has taught him more about human emotion and feeling, about _being_ fully human, more than the Church has in all his years of training and service.

'Tell me!' the boy demands again, thrusting up again, hitting Priest's prostate, making him moan.

Priest doesn't know where this _man-child_ learned these... _things_ they've been doing, things that he should not be doing, things that have him utterly enthralled. But he's spiraling down into the circle of passion and sex that for the last three weeks the boy from Angelus Church has demanded of him.

'Fine,' Priest grunts. 'I'm going to miss you.'

The boy shakes his head as he pulls out and pushes in again, grazing his prostate. 'Say it like you mean it.'

'What do you want from me?' He moans again, and draws in a harsh breath. 'I will miss you. These missions are dangerous. We're on the run 24/7. I'll miss you being in my bed, warming me when nothing warms me these days.'

The boy smiles. He lifts up and reaches between them to release the cock ring from around Priest's erection. Priest groans as the pressure is released, more blood rushes in—if that's even possible—to fill his cock completely. He closes his eyes as orgasm approaches and the boy makes sure to hit his prostate again.

Heat flashes through his body as the boy cries out; come erupts between them and he sees stars exploding in the black of his eyelids. He feels his body spasm, arching, shaking from the force of his completion.

The boy collapses to his side, sweat-slick and spent; he presses kisses to Priest's face, kisses that become more and more sloppy with each one. He murmurs words that Priest cannot make out, until they are just susurrations, harsh in the still silence.

Until the boy whispers, “I love you.”

Time crawls to a halt with that utterance. Priest cannot move, cannot breathe, cannot think. Until the boy twitches into slumber, his body heavy and relaxed in his arms, does he dare exhale the breath he's been holding forever. Then, he does something he's never done before, not in recent memory: he kisses the boy's forehead; in quiet fervor he breathes the words he thought he'd never utter to another human being: “I love you, too.”

It takes a long time for him to fall asleep.

*~*

He awakens with a start. The early morning light, weak and grey, barely chases away the darkness in the small priory cell,. He scrubs his hands over tired eyes and face, shaking off the vestiges of dreams filled with dread and guilt. He reaches to his side for his rosary, as he does each and every morning, to pray before beginning his daily tasks. He's not sure he believes that which he learned as a boy, but rubbing the smooth black stones and saying the familiar words give him some measure of comfort. When hunting vampires, killing them, sending them to hell, the words bring him solace and absolution. Because even though he knows it is a sacred mission to slay these creatures, deep in the well of his soul he knows he is taking life, even if that life is an abomination to God.

That is his _heresy_ and his deepest shame.

His hand finds not the familiar chain and spheres, but cold rock. It startles him and he looks up. He's not in the hard, narrow bed but on the floor, swathed in blankets of a palette made large enough to accommodate two bodies. . . .

A moan at his feet captures his attention. And it for a moment, his heart stutters.

The boy is nude, shivering in the cold. He's on his knees, his hips undulating as his hand works between his. . .

Priest pulls up sharply. 'What are you doing?' he hisses.

The boy looks at him. Even in the low light Priest sees the passion burning in his bright blue eyes. Another gentle moan, and he whispers, 'Preparing myself for you.'

Priest stands like a shot. 'You must not do this,' he pleads softly. 'Please stop.'

The boy shakes his head. His arm thrusts hard, causing his head to fall back again, panting softly. He squirms as his fingers work, then he looks at Priest again, his eyes blazing in the grey. 'I want this. I want you to fuck me, take me before you leave today.'

Priest backs away, falls against the stone wall. He brings his hands to his eyes, willing away the images: _smooth, pale skin; mouth open, panting; eyes glazed; a thick cock jutting up and away from a flat stomach and a thatch of dark hair, bobbing with each thrust. . . ._

He feels the warm breath before a chilled hand takes one of his and tugs it away from his face. 'Come,' the boy says, 'lie with me now.'

Priest tries to avoid the boy's gaze, but he knows he cannot resist. He mentally curses his weakness, his desire to see the passion, his own and the boy's, reflected in depths of blue and black. His feet follow, his body craving the warmth of the boy's beautiful body; he curses the betrayal of his vows.

The boy guides him to the palette and gently pushes him down, his desire making him tremble. Priest feel himself drifting on a rising tide of guilt and passion, rejection and overwhelming need. He shivers as the boy slides the thin shift up and over his head, off his arms. He closes his eyes so that he cannot see, hoping to shut off the passion in the boy's body.

He feels his limbs being arranged: his legs nudged together slightly, arms away from his torso. Hard thighs slide up his, followed by gentle puffs of breath and wet licks against his lips, his cheek, his jaw. Lips return to his, and his mouth opens, willingly, to accept a forceful, questing tongue. Seconds, minutes pass. A hot frisson of desire rolls through him as their tongues slip past the other. His hands come to rest on the boy's slender hips, fingers grip bone, feel muscles contracting and releasing with each movement.

So lost is he in the boy's mouth that he barely realizes when the kiss ends. 'I'm going to touch you now,' the boy murmurs against his lips. 'Need you hard.'

'I don't think that's going to be a problem,' Priest says automatically. His face floods as he realizes what he's confessed.

The boy laughs low and gentle in his chest, the vibration, combined with press of his warm chest to Priest's sensitive nipples, sets off another wave of need. He moans and shudders as the boy takes his cock in hand.

'Mmm, you're right,' the boy says. Priest feels him shift, then an all-encompassing warmth. 'It's cold in here,' he says. 'Blanket is scratchy but it'll keep us warm.'

It's then that Priest opens his eyes. And _Oh, sweet Jesu, save me_ , he's met with an expanse of pale skin and dark hair, two dusky rose nipples and slim, muscled arms. He watches the boy carefully arrange another blanket around his head and arms, tucking the ends in under his limbs. The one around the boy's head and body block out the rising sun's rays. As he moves he can smell the boy, a heady combination of sweat and sex, warm wool and his own ineffable scent. He inhales, hoping to store the memory of it for colder, more desperate days.

The boy returns his attention to Priest, smiling into his eyes with delight and desire. 'I'm going to touch you,' he whispers as he leans in to drag his lips across Priest's stubble. 'It's lubricant for your cock, so you can fuck me. Hard. Deep.' He punctuates each word with a small nip to Priest's jaw. 'I want you to fuck me so hard that I'll ache for days so I can keep the memory of you with me.'

Priest is alarmed at the boy's request. 'No,' he says with clarity. 'I will not do anything to hurt you. Do not ask me--'

The boy shushes him with a brutal kiss, his tongue plunges forth to stopper the words, and a gentle hand to his cheek comforts. The pressure of the kiss lessens, but his thumb continues to rubs comfort into him. As he does, Priest feels his breathing even out and a kind of calm settles over him.  
The boy pulls back, but his hand on Priest's face remains. 'I'm going to touch your cock,' he repeats, and a cool, slick hand envelopes his cock. Priest arches, bucks into it, upward into a tight squeeze that sends his head spinning. He groans as fire radiates from the root of his cock thorough-out his body. He wrenches his mouth away, gasping, 'No!'

The boy clamps his strong thighs, cradling Priest's trembling body. 'Yes, I want it. I want to feel you inside me, as you have felt me in you. Please. _Please do this_. For me. Please.' His solicitations become softer, quieter, more desperate. 'Please. You must do this for me. I want to give my body to you. My body and my soul.' The boy's eyes are intense.

Priest shakes his head. 'No, never your soul. You must never give your soul to anyone. Only to God.' His eyes burn with the force of his conviction. 'Say it! _Swear it_!'

The boy chuckles, but he doesn't release Priest's dick. 'All right. I give my soul only to God.' He leans in again and kisses Priest tenderly. 'But I give my body to you. It is yours.'

Priest shakes his head again, trembling at thought of the gift the boy is presenting to him. 'I shouldn't. It is not right for me to take this--'

'It is mine to give,' the boy says again. 'I give it to you for our mutual pleasure.'

Priest groans again. The boy quickens his hand, and then stops. Priest looks up, watches as he rises to a squat, and then feels the head of his cock nudging up against something firm yet warm and soft. The boy gasps, spasming at the first contact.

With shaking hands, Priest steadies the boy. 'I'm fine,' he says, his voice harsh and strained. He throws his head back as he ever so slowly lowers himself down upon Priest's cock. Priest swallows hard and moans. Never has he felt such, his cock squeezed so hard, harder than by the boy's hand or mouth, and surrounded by magnificent heat. The boy slides another several inches until Priest feels a heaviness on his pelvis. The boy moans as sweat trickles down his neck; he throws the blanket off his back and with it, a weak ray of sunlight lightens the room, illuminating the boy's beautiful, straining body.

The boy sits, breathing heavily. Priest becomes concerned. 'You don't--' And then the boy rises up and slides back down again. The pressure on his cock is unimaginable; his back arches with the sheer _pleasure_ of it. _Oh, Christ!_

The boy slowly continues to slide up and down on Priest's cock. Priest squeezes his eyes closed, the sensation difficult to process. His hands remain on the boy's hips but he can feel his thighs trembling violently with each pass. The boy moans but then his breath hitches, and then he gasps in pain.

Priest's eyes fly open. 'You must stop this, you're hurting.'

'No!' the boy insists, grasping the Priest's hands. 'I want this.'

'Then. . .' Priest says helplessly, 'you must be the one on the floor. Let me be above you.'

The boy pants and smiles wantonly. 'Yes.' And he pulls himself up, falling back on his hands.

Priest grabs for him, trying to break his fall. As he does, the boy cries out but laughs. 'Shh!' Priest hisses desperately. 'You'll wake everyone.'

The boy looks at him with a small grin. 'Do you really think others can hear through steel and concrete walls?'

'The walls are not as thick as you'd think,' Priest whispers, helping the boy to lie back, pulling the blankets around them. 'We've been very lucky these past few weeks--'

The boy's hand grabs the nape of Priest's neck and pulls him in for another passionate kiss. Priest is startled but his mouth instantly falls open to admit the boy's questing tongue. He groans as the heat builds between them, loving the feel of the wet tongue and hard chest. . .

The boy shifts and his legs fall farther open as he tilts his hips upwards. 'I want you,' he says heatedly. 'Want you more than anything.'

Priest's erection hasn't flagged, but it twitches at the boy's breathy words. He shifts onto his knees, and carefully places his hands by the boy's head. The head of his cock drags over the boy's, making them both shudder. Without another word, Priest takes his cock and pushes back into the boy's body, hard; the boy gasps.

'Did I--” Priest asks.

'No,' the boys says. 'I need you to move. Move now.'

Priest tentatively moves his hips, but his rhythm is off. The boy nudges him with one knee, then pushes up, trying to find a good spot. Then, his breath hitches and his eyes roll back into his head. 'Yessss!'

Priest smiles, knowing he has found the boy's prostate. He carefully watches the boy's face, making sure he hits the little organ as often as possible. The boy makes snuffling, gasping noises, and his face contorts with glee, each and every time, and Priest loves it.

'Harder,' the boy groans. 'Harder!'

Priest pushes a little harder in and out, but the boy wants more. He digs the heels of his feet into Priest's ass, encouraging him. Skin slaps against skin; the boy spreads his legs further apart so that Priest's sac hits heated flesh. As the boy's passion grows, Priest feels the tightness grow in his groin, something he'd denied himself always before this boy entered his life, but now he finds he anticipates it, relishes and welcomes it. He reaches between them as the boy has taught him, to take the boy's hot dick in hand, and pull on it in time with his thrusts. 'Come for me,' Priest growls, pulling in and slamming back into the boy's body. 'Come now.'

On cue, warmth erupts over his hand; the boy tries to muffle his cries by chewing on his own hand. Seeing and hearing his joy, Priest thrusts hard, harder, and harder as the tingle of impending orgasm radiates through him; it pushes through in a flash as the boy's body flexes around his cock, pulling life from him. He tries not to cry out, grinding his teeth together, and the boy takes his face in his hands and crushes their lips together, swallowing Priest's ecstasy, like it is nourishment, like it is sacrament.

They part, the need to breathe overwhelming. Sweat falls on the boy's eyelids, and Priest leans in to lick it reverently. He sags over the boy, dropping soft kisses over the his eyes, nose, cheek, lips. The boy returns them equally, and for an eternity they press love and care into each other's bodies. Finally, the boy pushes Priest to lay beside him, and instantly rolls over into his arms, burying his face into Priest's neck.

'Did I—are you?' Priest tries to ask.

'Thank you,' the boy replies sleepily, tugging him closer. 'Love feeling you inside me.'

Priest holds him closely, rubbing his cheek to the boy's tousled hair. 'I'm. . . glad.'

The boy's breathing evens out and grows languid in his arms. Priest kisses him one more time and then very slowly extricates himself from the tangle of his limbs. Now, more than ever, he feels the need to get away; perhaps even transfer to one of the societies up north. He looks down at the beautiful boy who has loved him, inextricably and impossibly, over the past weeks. It fills him with a troubled warmth.

'Goodbye,' he whispers. And he turns and walks away.

*~*

The boy walks quietly down the aisle of the cathedral, genuflects before the altar of the Lord, then sits beside a figure wrapped in black. 'Thank you for agreeing to see me, Father,' he says quietly.

'What is it I can do for you, child?'

'There is a warrior priest, such as yourself, who. . .became a . . . friend,' the boy starts. 'He went out with you three months ago on a mission to eradicate the vampires. Only, he has not returned here. With the rest of you.' He swallows hard, tries to keep the panic from rising in his voice. 'Please, Father, can you tell me of him, of his fate?'

The robed priest sits silently for many heartbeats, then sighs, and lowers the cowl around his head. His blond hair shines in the Presence light. He sits back and then lifts his eyes to meet the boy's.

'One of our brothers fell, in battle,' he says quietly. 'He was. . .my best friend, though, in truth, before we left, I had the feeling he was distancing himself from me.' He stares at the boy and a _knowing_ look steals across his bruised face. 'Perhaps I now know why.'

The boy looks away, hoping the love in his heart doesn't give himself or his Priest away. 'I-I do not know what you mean.'

'Of course you do!' the priest says harshly. The words bounce off the stone walls like a slap. 'He fell because his faith was not pure.'

The boy leans back, fear lacing through him like a knife. 'What?' he gasps.

The blond priest grabs his robe and pulls him into his face. 'You sullied him. You compromised his vows. You are to blame for his death.'

With that, he rises and stalks away, the steady beat of leather boots echoes around him, accusing him.

The boy falls to his knees, pulls a rosary of worn black beads from his sleeve, and begins to pray.

*~*

He awakens with a start, heart beating wildly, and sits up in his narrow bed, looking around in the dark. It is well into the night, and the priory is silent. He listens carefully for any thing, any sound that might be the cause of his interrupted slumber. When he hears nothing, the boy scrubs his hand over his face and then up through his closely-cropped hair. He lies back, and tries to get comfortable again, tossing to and fro; he punches the small, hard pillow, willing softness into it. Another few moments of fruitless and frustrating rolling, he sits up, wide awake. Disgusted, he swings his feet over the side of the bed. The stone floor is cold, bare. Unforgiving.

And for the thousandth time in the past year, he feels the ache in his soul for the one who isn't here. For the one man who brings warmth into the frigid cell, his doubting soul. The boy presses the heels of his hands into eyes that begin to prick. Exhaustion threatens to consume him; it's been ages since he's slept more than a few hours at a time.

 _Must be that assignment that's coming due_ , he thinks, rubbing his hand over his head again. _May as well try to get some of it done._

He leans over to turn on the small light and picks up the book beside the bed.

'Hello, boy.'

The boy turns with a barely contained gasp. There by the door stands his Priest. . .only he's. . .different. His hair is long; his face covered in several days growth of dark beard. He's dressed strangely, in a long, leather coat. 'F-father!'

Priest raises his hand, indicating not to come closer. But the boy ignores him and quickly comes to him. 'No further!' Priests rasps. 'Do not touch me.'

'What—what has happened to you?' the boy asks. 'Where have you been? Why have you taken so long to return?' He takes another step forward and the weak light shines on Priest's face. 'You—your eyes.' The boy's eyes widen in response. 'What has happened to your eyes?' He raises his hand to caress his Priest's face.

'No.' Priest grabs the compassionate hand roughly, shoves him away. 'I don't want you to touch me.'

'But why?' the boy presses. 'I've missed you. I've missed you so much.'

'I am not yet. . . complete,' Priest says softly. Then he lessens his grip on the boy's hand to turn his to interlace their fingers. 'The world is not yet ready for me.'

The boy stares at him. 'But I'm ready. God, I have _missed_ you!'

Priest smiles slightly, his now golden eyes crinkling at the corners. 'And I you.'

The boy looks at him then rushes, throwing his arms about him. 'I'm so glad you're here. Can you stay?' He pushes his nose into Priest's neck, his hand grips the nape through long hair tightly. 'Please say you'll stay.' He feels Priest's hands come to rest on his hips, but there is something odd, something very different about the man. 'Why are you so cold?' he asks. The boy pulls back. 'What's wrong with you?'

Priests does not move, but averts his eyes. 'Tell me,' the boy says. 'What happened to you?'

Several times, Priest tries to speak. The boy clings to him, presses kisses to his cheek and neck, both marred by scars. He runs his fingertips over the white lines. 'How did you get these? Not that they aren't seriously cool, because they are. But they weren't there before you left.'

Priest finally growls, and then takes the boy's hands in his. 'Much has changed. I have changed.' He looks intently at the boy.

The boy is transfixed. Priest's golden eyes are mesmerizing, intoxicating. _Enthralling._ He feels himself slipping away, slipping into some sort of languid state. He knows he shouldn't, but he can't seem to shake the feeling, the wonderful, beautiful feeling of staring into his once lover's eyes. 'What. . .is . . . happening?' he breathes.

He feels a sharp pain on his neck and then, all-encompassing warmth. Pain. Warmth. His body grows heavy, lethargic, but mostly he feels Priest's strong arms come around him, hold him, embrace him tightly, like he used to. The boy falls into him, moaning, his head swirling; he pushes his erection into Priest's thigh, ecstatic to feel this man once again. He moans again, rubbing up against Priest harder and faster, feeling the welcomed, blessed rush of orgasm. He clutches at Priest's waist, pushing harder into him and, groans as he finally comes, comes harder than he ever has in his life. 'Oh, God, yes,' he hisses.

And then, darkness.

*~*

The boy opens his eyes.

The world looks different now, different from the one he left many months ago. Depths and shadows are more prominent, in focus. Smells are sharper, more intense. He feels—God, the things he _feels_.

He turns his head and finds Priest, no, Black Hat, looking down at him, fangs gleaming in the light.

'Good morning, lovely boy,' Black Hat says, then kisses him deeply. 'Ready for another round?'

'God, yes,' he breathes as he smiles. And bares his neck for his lover.


End file.
